Remember to Forget
by serenarian1
Summary: Hermione Granger has managed to carve out a life for herself after the War and a career as a top-level Auror. However, a face from the past is poised ready to re-enter her life and turn everything upside down. To add insult to injury, he doesn't remember anything of who he is, or their shared past. Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Cover by Chi Leisl.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: Hello to anyone reading this! This is my first Dramione story and I'm really hoping that it gets some interest. I love fan fiction and everything HP, so please read and review! Without further ado, on to the story! **_

**Chapter One - The Assignment **

"You have got to be kidding me." The words echoed in the almost empty room.

The woman standing before me looked uncomfortable, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she nervously rubbed her left elbow. Her nondescript face flushed with sudden colour; lending an autumnal tone to her features.

"Don't just stand there stalling for time! I said, you have got to be kidding me!" Fingers balling into fists, I stared at her again, harder this time. Slowly she raised her eyes to mine, blinking under the fury of my gaze.

"I'm sorry, but it needs to be done," she said shortly. "You were volunteered to do it, so the job falls to you."

My sudden sarcastic laugh rang resonant and harsh. "So some guy comes into our division with no idea of his own identity, and I've been volunteered as babysitter? Why?"

She looked stricken at my yelling, but didn't flinch from the question. "Your immediate manager volunteered you. He said you knew this man."

I picked up my wand and span on my heel. "Right, I've had it with the vague explanations. I'm going to see Harry." I marched out of the room and stalked up the tiled corridor, hearing only the click-clacking of my heels against the ceramic and the roaring of my blood in my ears. I knocked once on the oak-panelled door and opened it suddenly without waiting for a response.

Harry looked up, a flash of annoyance crossing his features. "Hermione, what on earth –"

"Who is this guy?" I demanded, slamming my wand down on his desk. "Who is the latest recruit, why doesn't he know who he is, and why do you of all people think I know him?"

Harry put down the sandwich he had been eating. He raised his face to mine, pushing his round glasses up his nose. His piercing blue eyes looked troubled and for an instant I felt guilty about interrupting his lunch break. He sighed. "Sit down. I'll need to explain this slowly," he stated, indicating the chair opposite him. "For Merlin's sake, calm down," he added, noticing my clenched fists.

With effort, I straightened my fingers into a more normal position and lowered myself into the chair he'd indicated. I crossed my legs and arranged my skirt before looking at him expectantly. "Harry," I said softly, my anger cooling. "I'm sorry – but my orders generally come directly from you. Marina took me by surprise. What's going on?"

He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth before continuing. "As you correctly guessed, we have a new recruit. He was sent to us directly from a contact in Wales. However, when he arrived here last night he was in a bad way and it appears there have been some head injuries which have affected his memory."

"He has amnesia?" I enquired, leaning forward.

"Among other things," Harry agreed. "He is almost unrecognisable, but I met with him briefly yesterday for a few minutes. He's from Hogwarts, Hermione."

I stole a chocolate biscuit from the pack he had been nursing on his desk. "So who is it? Or rather, who do you think it is, Harry?" I asked; taking a big bite and letting the creamy chocolate taste glide over my tongue.

Harry looked slightly rattled. "It's Malfoy."

I choked on my biscuit. After several slaps on the back, I managed to wipe my watering eyes and bring him into focus again. "I'm sorry, Harry. I thought you said that Malfoy was our new recruit." At his silent nod, I felt my rage bubbling up inside for the second time that morning. "You mean the same Malfoy who betrayed Hogwarts to the Death Eaters? The same Malfoy who helped to kill Dumbledore? Oh…and just in case you forgot, the same Malfoy who KILLED Ron?"

Harry nodded. "Hermione – he doesn't remember any of it. He has no idea of his history. He remembers only tiny little bits of being at Hogwarts at all."

"I DO!" I bellowed, tears running down my face. "Harry, how can you ask me to do this? You know what was supposed to happen with R-Ron and I…"

He sighed audibly. "I know, Hermione and I'm genuinely sorry. It's just that I can't take the risk of him recognising me, so I'm unable to train him. If he remembers who I am then my post could be compromised."

"Why is he even here?" I sobbed. "He seriously wants to train as an Auror?"

Harry nodded. "Shacklebolt feels he could be a real asset, with his background and his father's former place in Voldemort's inner circle." He shrugged. "Personally, I don't like it – I think he's a wildcard, and his value to us is diminished by his apparent amnesia."

"Plus the fact that he murdered an Auror…" I mumbled. It hurt to think about what had happened with Ron. He had been killed in action, looking for Lucius Malfoy.

Harry looked at me gently. "Hermione…we don't know for sure that it was him," he reminded me. "It could have been Lucius himself for all we know. He was found dead as well."

I glared at my friend. "Regardless, Harry – Ron's b-body was found in M-Malfoy Manor," I stuttered through my tears. "That's enough for me, knowing all the w-wards that had been p-placed on that f-forsaken place."

He passed me a handkerchief and I blew my nose, dabbing at my cheeks. The hanky was linen and felt soft again my skin. It was remarkably soothing. "Hermione, we need to go," he said sadly. "I need to take you to him so that you can start on his training." I allowed him to help me up from the chair as I wiped away the last of my tears.

He took me by the shoulders and looked into my face. "You, Hermione Granger, are the bravest person I have ever known and one of the most capable Aurors on my team. I know you can handle this. I wouldn't have asked it of you if I didn't. Do you understand me?" I nodded, meeting his gaze. He was my best friend. I couldn't let my selfishness get in the way of the mission.

"Okay," I finally said. "Take me to him."


	2. Chapter 2 - First Meeting

**A/N: So chapter 2 is now up! I'm trying to write 2 chapters ahead at all times, so I'm currently working on chap 4 as I post this. THANK YOU to those who have favourite or followed this story, I hope you like the new chapter! Please review if you have time to. **

**Chapter Two – First Meeting **

The air inside the meeting room was noticeably colder than it had been in the corridor. I rubbed my arms as I waited for Marina to return, my skin turning to goosebumps under the friction of my hands.

The door opened and Marina walked in, her expression carefully arranged into one of nonchalance. "This is Hermione Granger, one of our top-level Aurors," she began, "She will be looking after your training."

He entered the room then. He was as tall as I remembered, with his trademark white-blond hair and the same quicksilver eyes. However, these were the only recognisable features. His hair was matted and too long for him, falling in his eyes. He wore Muggle clothing – tight blue jeans and a dark checked shirt. His skin was paler than I recalled. He looked as though he needed a decent night's sleep and a hot bath, and this was the most shocking aspect. The Malfoy I remembered was always immaculately turned-out. It took Marina clearing her throat before I realised I was staring, and I flushed.

He stepped forward and took my hand, brushing his lips briefly against my knuckles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger," he said pleasantly. "I look forward to working with you."

"And you," I responded lamely, not knowing what to say. Instead, I turned my attention to Marina. "Thank you, Marina. Does our new recruit have accommodation assigned to him?"

She suddenly looked uncomfortable again, although she quickly plastered the nonchalant expression back onto her face. "Not yet, although the boss has asked whether he could bunk with you until accommodation has been arranged?" Her eyes met mine, and I could see the apology in them.

I shrugged, fighting the anger that was flaring inside. "Indeed, that will have to do for now." I turned back to Malfoy. "Forgive me, I didn't ask your name," I added.

He looked confused. "To tell you the truth, I don't know it but they tell me I'm called Draco Malfoy."

"Then that is how I will address you. You may call me Hermione."

He nodded, and I thanked Marina again. She left the room, leaving us alone. Think business, Hermione, I told myself. I forced myself to look at him with an unbiased view. "Well first of all, Draco, you can't go into Auror training looking like that. I think a haircut and a shower would be a pertinent place to start."

He looked surprised. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It's too long," I responded. "It falls in your eyes, and when you are shooting hexes at dark wizards you need to be able to see where you are shooting."

"You sound as if you've learned that the hard way," he commented, sitting down on the edge of the table.

"Let me be clear. Everything I know, I have learned the hard way," I answered coolly. "I have been in more battles than I care to admit. I have watched colleagues and friends die in the heat of conflict. Everything I teach you has come from cold hard experience."

He held up his hands. "I meant no harm. I was just making an observation." He looked at me with interest. "Are you always this intense?"

I wanted to laugh, until I realised he was genuinely asking the question. He had no memory of me at all. The confirmation of this was staggering, and I found myself fighting a smile. "Yes," I answered confidently. "I am."

He smiled. "This will be interesting." He looked at me then, his expression expectant. "So then – where is this shower you speak of? We'd better get moving if I need to look presentable before I can commence my training."

"We'll have to Apparate," I said, offering my arm. He took it, and seconds later we appeared in my flat. He staggered slightly before regaining his balance. "Sorry about that – Side Along Apparition isn't much fun."

"Apparently," he murmured before sitting down heavily on the couch. "Oh – sorry, is it okay for me to sit?"

"Of course," I said, not unkindly. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Do you have any pumpkin juice?" he asked, catching me off guard. He had hated pumpkin juice at school – something that the Weasley twins had used to their advantage in constructing several pranks. I nodded wordlessly and went into the kitchen to pour him a glass. He followed me in and looked around the small room as I finished pouring and handed the glass to him. He took a long drink as I watched, fascinated.

"See something you like?" he asked as he wiped his mouth. I shook my head, feeling the blush creep up my neck. He chuckled and took another sip of his juice.

"I'll thank you not to make comments like that, Draco," I said sternly. "I am, after all, your trainer. "

"You're also a woman, and I was taught never to speak to a woman without respect," he retorted. "You were looking at me with some kind of interest – I was merely wondering what you were thinking."

"I was thinking that you really need a haircut," I lied, making him laugh. "But the fact you address women respectfully is a good thing – it will get you respect within the Aurors."

He nodded. "That's what I hope for, Hermione." I felt my chest clench as he spoke my first name, suddenly reliving memories of being addressed as 'mudblood' throughout our school days. As if reading my mind, he looked into my face. "Would you prefer I called you something else?"

"No," I answered. "Hermione is fine." He drained the rest of his glass and placed it in the sink as I beckoned to him. "Come on, I'll get you a towel and show you where the bathroom is."

He hesitated. "Wouldn't it be better to cut my hair first?" he asked suddenly. I was struck dumb by his question.

"You want me to do it?" I asked incredulously. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I have no hairdressing experience."

Draco nodded. "I would prefer you to do it, simply because I do not wish to wait to begin my training. If I have to go elsewhere it will delay matters."

I nodded numbly and opened a kitchen drawer, scrabbling around for the sharpest scissors I could find. He sat down at the kitchen table with his back to me, and I swallowed. "Accio comb," I summoned, catching the black comb that flew in from the living room. I began to comb his dishevelled hair and found myself musing inwardly on how soft it was.

"You don't have to worry, Hermione," he said suddenly. "However you cut my hair will be fine. As long as it's shorter it will be fine however it looks."

I chuckled dryly. "You won't be saying that when your head looks lopsided," but his remark had lightened the mood and I began to cut as best I could. He stayed silent throughout; which was exactly what I needed. I needed the quiet so that I could concentrate on how his hair had looked in sixth year. Eventually I was pleased with my work. "Okay, you can have a look in the mirror now Draco." I offered.

He stood up and walked over to the mirror in the living room, turning his head this way and that as he perused his reflection. "Merlin's beard, Hermione – I look fantastic!" he exclaimed. I laughed at the utter joy I saw on his face. "This haircut is incredible – who knew I could look good," he continued, running his hands over his hair.

"You do look much better," I agreed. I couldn't believe the change in him. He looked almost like he did in sixth year, but without the drawn look and the greyness in his skin. His eyes – unique as they were – shone with something I had never ever seen in Hogwarts. They shone with life and enthusiasm. He almost looked happy.

I put the scissors away and opened up the cupboard, throwing him a clean towel. "The bathroom is upstairs – third door on the right. Go and shower because you look much better but you don't smell much better – and that is easily rectified." He pulled a mock disgusted face, which I pretended not to notice. "Once you're done, the door next to it will be your bedroom. I'll lay out some clean clothes for you."

"How will you get clothes for me? Transfigured clothes never fit properly."

I raised an eyebrow. "Where there's a witch there's a way. Now go and get showered."

He saluted me and made his way up the stairs, leaving me standing in the living room alone trying to fight the smile that was pulling at my lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to the people who have followed/favourited this story so far! It means so much to me that people are actually reading this! I've been on for a while now, reading loads of great Dramione stories so it blows my mind that people are actually reading my attempts! **

**I have chapter 4 written, so rest assured that I'm not going to abandon this story. I will keep writing until I feel this story has reached a natural conclusion. I'm also working on another story which I plan to post up soon. Keep your eyes peeled for that! **

**On to chapter 3 – this one has plenty of Draco/Hermione interaction, so enjoy! **

**Chapter 3 – Auror Training **

"Welcome to your first day of Auror training, Mr Malfoy. Today we will be checking your knowledge of defensive magic. I will duel with you, and I will be duelling hard. I will not go easy on you," I stated coolly as I paced up and down the Ministry's duelling room. "I will be sending a variety of battling spells at you – but rest assured I will not be using Unforgivables."

Draco almost blanched but attempted to smile. "Well that bit is a relief anyway, Hermione."

I angled my head to the side, fighting off a smile. "We can start slowly. _Furnunculus!_"

Draco raised his wand instantly, deflecting the curse. "_Levicorpus!_" he countered quickly and I deflected. We continued, a volley of jinxes and hexes flying back and forth until I began to notice a pattern in his incantations. I smiled as I raised my wand and yelled "_Petrificus Totalus!_" Draco was taken aback and lay immobile on the floor of the room as I stood over him with a grin on my face.

"You cast in a pattern," I informed him. "You throw a variety of spells and curses and then start over again, casting the same spells in the same rotation. Is that deliberate?" A loud aggrieved sound reminded me that he was in a body bind. "Whoops, sorry," I said, waving my wand to release him from the curse.

He sat up, rubbing his wrists. "I didn't see that one coming," he said, his voice almost ashamed. "What do you mean I cast in a pattern? You mean I keep the same rotation going over and over again?"

"You didn't know?"

He shook his head. "I had no idea. To be honest with you, I don't know how I knew all those spells. Some of them I thought I was making up."

I drew my eyebrows together, puzzled. "That's strange," I commented. "How much of that duel was conscious for you?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps 20% of it?" His eyes darkened with fear as he looked me straight in the face. "Does this mean I can't be an Auror?"

"No, of course it doesn't mean that, Draco," I answered, my thoughts going a mile a minute. I was silent for a moment as my brain turned over what this meant. Was his previous training in the Death Eaters coming through? He hadn't tried to send any dark curses my way, but the process suggested that he had learned something by rote.

"Hermione?" he interrupted. I looked at him and smiled. He smiled back hesitantly, his eyes turning darker grey. "I wish I knew who I was and where I came from," he confided, his voice trembling. "Will you tell me a little about yourself?"

"Let's sit down," I responded, leading him over to the duelling room spectator benches. We sat, and I fiddled with my wand before clearing my throat and meeting his questioning gaze. "I went to Hogwarts, and while I was there a very dark wizard came back from where he had been banished many years ago," I began. "I and my two best friends began to work to take him down. He was so evil that nobody could bring themselves to voice his name, so he was referred to as You-Know-Who or He Who Must Not Be Named. We were heading into our last year of school when we were forced to leave Hogwarts to take the fight to this dark wizard. We did so, and he led us back to Hogwarts where a huge battle took place. The school was almost destroyed, and many people were killed…" I trailed off at this point, fighting back tears. So many had fallen – Dumbledore, Snape, Fred Weasley and Ron – and those were just a drop in the ocean.

Draco looked into my face. "Hermione, please don't cry. It's okay now. You beat the dark wizard, right?"

I nodded, wiping a tear from my cheek. "He was killed by one of my best friends in the final battle, but not before taking my other best friend and a lot of other people I loved with him."

"I'm so sorry," Draco whispered. I began to cry again at the look of genuine concern on his face. "Oh Hermione – come here." He pulled me close to him and I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. I sobbed for all the losses I had seen, all the grief I had never been able to express crashing over me like a riptide as I cried it all out. Draco held me close throughout, just letting me sob. After a while I lifted my face and looked at him. "You all right?" he asked gently.

I nodded. "I'm sorry Draco, I don't usually do that." Noticing his shirt, I felt my face freeze in horror. "Oh Merlin, look what I've done to your shirt… I'll pay for it to be cleaned."

He laughed gently. "Hermione, I couldn't care less about my shirt as long as you're all right," he whispered, his quicksilver eyes searching mine. I found myself looking at him in a new light. His eyes were so compelling – I couldn't look away and I wondered why I had never noticed them before. They were beautiful. _Oh shit, __he__ is beautiful. What the hell am I thinking? _I found myself pulling away slightly; the moment shattered.

"I'm much better now Draco. I must have needed that cry – thanks for not freaking out," I voiced sincerely. He released me and I immediately found myself missing the warmth I had unconsciously been enjoying. He smiled, and I got to my feet, wincing at the stiffness in my legs. "Ouch – that's another lesson in Auror training – don't sit down for too long otherwise your legs will not thank you," I chuckled.

He nodded, but he looked preoccupied. "So what's next on the training list?" he asked half-heartedly, "How to make other people feel awkward without needing to say a word?" His voice had hardened, and instantly he sounded more like the Draco Malfoy I remembered from school.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, dumbfounded.

He clenched his fist, pacing backwards and forwards. "What was that about just now, Hermione? I was comforting you, and everything seemed fine – then you looked at me and backed away like I was a monster. What the hell?" he demanded. "I was looking at you, and I was really worried about you. What on earth did I do?"

I sighed. "You did everything right, Draco. It was me – I'm sorry. I thought you might have been uncomfortable with the closeness – after all, I don't generally cry on the shoulders of people I've just gotten to know." I felt awful lying to him, but I didn't know what else to do. I barely understood what had happened.

He looked up at me, his eyebrows drawn together in worry. "I wasn't uncomfortable," he murmured. "On the contrary – I felt comfortable with you. I've never felt like that with anyone before now."

I felt my heart jump and sink at the same time; paradoxically. I realised something in that moment – I was attracted to Draco Malfoy. While that didn't bother me, I felt ridiculously guilty that I knew his past and he didn't. I couldn't do anything else until I knew what the Ministry wanted. "Draco, I feel comfortable with you too," I admitted. "I like you - you're a really good man. I just – I'm not good with physical contact at the moment. I just got out of a relationship and I don't know what I feel."

He held up his hands. "That's okay, Hermione. I wasn't going to suggest anything further. I just wanted to make sure I didn't repulse you!" He chuckled, and I found myself breaking into a smile.

"You don't repulse me, Draco. Not at all," I responded with a playful wink. He laughed, and we moved several paces apart before facing each other, wands drawn as I dropped into battle stance. "Ready, Mr Malfoy? Let's duel. Begin!"


	4. Chapter 4 - Time for Questions

**A/N: Here's chapter 4! Thank you to everyone who has favourited and followed this story so far… I'm currently working on chapter 5 and the action is really heating up now! This chapter is partly in Draco's POV which was fun to write and I think it works well in this chapter. **

**Also – I wrote a oneshot for Jazzy1's 'Bridges Dramione Writers Challenge' called Beyond The Veil which has been getting great reviews and I'm so thankful for that. **

**A massive thank you to Simevra Lestrange who has reviewed the first chapter – I appreciate your review loads so thank you for taking the time to post it and comment on my work. **

**Chapter 4 – Time for Questions **

Draco sat up, reaching for the alarm clock on the bedside cabinet that was shrieking loudly. "Oh, shut up – I'm awake," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his sleep-rumpled face and flicking the switch to the off position. He looked at the calendar on his wall and smiled as he realised it was Saturday. No training today, which meant he could spend some time doing what he liked. He enjoyed free time days.

He rose and slipped through the door connecting his bedroom to the small en suite bathroom; turning on the shower with one hand. He quickly undressed and slid under the steaming spray, sighing gently as the hot water ran therapeutically down his back. He found himself humming as he shampooed his hair and chuckled to himself. His mood had definitely improved since he had first come to London.

Of course, some of that had to do with his trainer and housemate. Hermione had been nothing but kind and accommodating; he wondered sometimes how she managed to put her own needs on the back burner to make sure everyone else was happy. He had seen how she brought work home and often worked late into the night to ensure everything was completed properly. She had always put his needs before her own; even going as far as to make sure that he got the first plate of food at meal times. He owed her a lot.

Rinsing the last remains of soap from his body, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. "Perhaps I'll go to Diagon Alley and get her a gift," he mused, thinking out loud. "Something she'd like."

He selected a muggle pair of black jeans and a close-fitting t shirt from the wardrobe, again smiling at Hermione's insistence that she buy several outfits for him to wear, as well as underwear and socks. Looking at himself in the mirror, he combed his hair and grinned at himself before leaving the room and descending the stairs.

"Hermione?" he called as he entered the kitchen. She was nowhere to be seen. Approaching the kitchen island, he noticed a piece of parchment with his name written on the front in an elegant, looping hand. He picked it up curiously and unfolded it. It was a note from her.

"_Draco, _

_I've gone to Hogsmeade today with my friend Ginny – she's from Hogwarts and she's getting married soon. I promised I'd go with her to find her wedding dress, shoes and other such frivolities that I know you would have no interest in; hence why I didn't invite you. I hope you have a good day. I'll be home in time for dinner tonight. Have fun! _

_Love, Hermione " _

He smiled and placed the parchment down before opening a cupboard and reaching for the cereal, pouring himself a generous portion. He crunched his way through several spoonfuls as he thought about the possibility of a gift for her, wondering what she would like. Of course, that conundrum would be better solved if he actually knew her better. He frowned as he pondered this.

Then he realised something. He had instantly known that Hogsmeade was nowhere near Diagon Alley, yet he had only ever heard about those places from Hermione in passing – to his knowledge, he had never visited either. How on earth had he known?

He looked around the room, noticing with interest that a handsome snowy owl was perched on the back of the chair. He regarded it slowly, noticing that the bird was watching him just as closely. This must be Hermione's owl, he thought with a wry smile. He couldn't remember seeing it before. It would be incorrect to say it was merely white – an almost platinum tone shone from its feathers. He approached the bird slowly and held out his arm. The lovely bird took off from its perch and landed swiftly on his forearm, where it blinked at him with alert honey-coloured eyes.

"Your feathers are the same colour as my hair," he observed aloud before feeding the bird one of the clusters from his cereal. Lowering his arm to the back of the chair, the owl obediently shuffled back onto its former perch and Draco rose, smiling to himself. He put his bowl in the sink before making his way to the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder. "Diagon Alley," he stated loudly and clearly before disappearing in a rush of green flames.

Within moments he was stepping out of the fireplace in The Leaky Cauldron, oblivious to the gasps of surprise from those around him. He walked smartly to the door and out into the street, his feet moving quickly over the cobblestones. He looked up to find he was outside a handsome bookshop named Flourish & Blotts, and walked through the large doorway.

A few people were milling around near the entrance, shooting him strange looks. Draco was a bit bemused by this – he was just trying to do a little shopping, after all. Suddenly his path was blocked by a rather unattractive short woman with eyes of steel. "You!" she spat, prodding him in the chest with a finger. "You're Draco Malfoy!"

Despite her rude and almost violent behaviour, he attempted to smile. "Apparently," he said pleasantly. What happened next took him aback. Raising her hand, she slapped him hard across the face. "_Death Eater_!" she hissed, before stomping away. Draco touched his cheek in confusion. "What on earth was that about?" he questioned quietly. Shaking himself, he left the shop quickly and crossed the street to a jewellery vendor. He selected and paid as fast as he could before making his way to an area that was less busy and Apparating back to Hermione's home.

The owl hooted softly as he looked up, as if in welcome. "I have to see if Hermione knows something," Draco mumbled. He grabbed a piece of parchment from the stack on the table and found a quill before scribbling a message. He beckoned to the owl who dutifully flew across and held out its leg. He patted the bird's head before attaching the note to the outstretched leg. "I need you to find Hermione Granger and deliver this to her," he said softly. With another hoot, the beautiful owl disappeared out of the window and Draco sank into a chair. He felt his previous good mood evaporating fast. His cheek was still stinging from the slap, and he traced his cheekbone gingerly with a trembling hand. Sighing loudly, he reached for the remote control and flicked on the television; hoping that something on the strange muggle device could distract him for the few hours until Hermione came home.

_Hogsmeade_

"Ginny, that's ridiculous!" I cried as my friend paraded around the dress shop holding on to an umbrella and singing. I was laughing so hard my sides were hurting. It was nice to be out of the house and thinking about something other than Auror training and Draco Malfoy. He had been in my thoughts a little more than I was comfortable with lately, and I felt myself wanting to just disconnect for a while. I could always count on Ginny Weasley to cheer me up.

"Okay, okay," she replied finally, setting down the umbrella and nodding in apology to the shopkeeper. "I'll stop. But you never know what will happen on your wedding day – there's no law against rain on a bride you know."

I rolled my eyes. "Please – as if Molly would allow it to rain on your wedding day," I responded with a grin. "She'd be doing weather charms on rotation to make sure that doesn't happen."

Ginny pulled a face and nodded. "I know," she admitted, making me laugh again. "But moving on to more serious things – Harry mentioned that you've got Malfoy living with you and doing his Auror training." She chuckled as I grimaced. "It's going well then?"

"It's just weird," I confided. "He genuinely has no idea who he is and what he did in the past. He doesn't remember any of it. He's like a different person, Gin."

She looped her arm through mine. "Come on, let's go and get some coffee and have a chat. You can tell me all about it." She led me through the streets, stopping outside Madam Puddifoot's shop before grinning at me. I followed her inside as she called her hellos to Madam Puddifoot and we sat down at a table near the window. Thankfully, it was quiet.

"What can I get for you, dears?" asked Madam Puddifoot.

"I'll have a frothy coffee please, Madam," I requested, smiling up at the wizened old lady. Her blue eyes twinkled back at me, and she nodded kindly. Ginny ordered the same and Madam made her way slowly through the tables to get our order.

"Damn it, perhaps we should have ordered a big slab of her chocolate cake as well," mused Ginny, and I chuckled. "Hey, difficult situations are always made better with a massive slice of chocolate cake – especially if it's warm with ice cream."

I ran my hand over my wild hair. "It's not a _difficult _situation, exactly – it's just really bloody odd, Gin," I began. "I'm basically living with the man who murdered my boyfriend – and your brother!"

She rolled her eyes, surprising me. "As much as I hate to defend him, 'Mione, we don't know if he did kill Ron. He was found near –"

"- the body of Lucius Malfoy, I know, I know," I interrupted. "But that doesn't mean that Lucius killed him. I can hardly see him killing Ron and then Avada'ing himself, can you?"

"Maybe Malfoy killed his father," suggested Ginny, and I felt my eyes widen. Madam Puddifoot chose that moment to bring over our coffees, and I smiled half-heartedly at her before returning my attention to my obviously crazy friend.

"Are you serious?" I asked, almost angrily. "Why would you even suggest that?"

Ginny held up her hands in surrender. "Look, all I'm saying is that we don't know, all right? You could be right, or I could be right – either way, it doesn't bring Ron back does it?"

I took a large gulp of hot coffee, attempting to swallow the lump in my throat. "You're right," I whispered. "But I can't bear not knowing, Gin. I need to know what happened at Malfoy Manor that day."

Ginny smiled warmly at me, sipping her coffee. "Perhaps this is why all this has happened," she mused. "Maybe Malfoy has come back into your life to answer that little puzzle."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "I'm sorry? He has bloody amnesia!"

She said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow. "Yes, he has amnesia _now_," she explained, as if speaking to a small child. "That doesn't mean he will always have amnesia, does it?"

I stared at her. She had just said the one thing I had never considered. I had foolishly been looking at Malfoy's condition as permanent – this was obviously a mistake. Ginny was absolutely right and I hadn't even stopped to consider the possibilities. "What if he never remembers, Ginny? What then?" I asked quietly.

Her face softened. "Then you can deal with that when you come to it, 'Mione," she said gently. "I think you'll get your answers, though – one way or another."

I nodded. "Thanks, Gin," I replied softly. "I appreciate it."

She hesitated briefly before leaning close to me. "Are you starting to like Malfoy?" she questioned.

"I don't think I can answer that," I considered. "Mainly because I can't reconcile the Malfoy I know now with the Malfoy I remember from school – the foul, loathsome little git who went on to be a Death Eater. It's like chalk and cheese."

Gin smiled, rolling her eyes. "Okay, I'll rephrase – do you like the Malfoy you know now?"

I shredded my napkin in my hands, unable to answer. I couldn't say I did – it was all too raw and wrong. I couldn't be developing even a friendly interest in the man who may have been responsible for the death of my former boyfriend. I owed it to Ron's memory. I had sworn at his funeral that I would find out who killed him and privately sworn to myself that I would never try to replace him. If that meant I'd never love again, so be it.

At that point, I saw my owl, Hestia, flying towards me. She landed on the table beside me and held out her leg with a soft hoot. "Hey, Hestia," I crooned in greeting, removing the parchment from her leg and feeding her an owl treat from my handbag. Ginny raised an eyebrow, and I unfolded the parchment hurriedly.

_Hermione – _

_I popped to Diagon Alley to do a bit of shopping and someone called me something weird. What's a Death Eater? _

_Draco _

"Oh holy mother of Merlin," I exclaimed. "He went to Diagon Alley!"

Ginny dropped the spoon she was holding and it fell to the hard table top with a crash. "He _what?_"

"I have to go," I voiced hurriedly, pulling some Sickles out of my pocket and dropping them on the table. "Ginny, I'm really sorry to cut this short, but he asked me what a Death Eater is."

"Of course – go," she urged. The look of concern on her face reminded me of Molly Weasley and I grinned at her. "Owl me later!" she called as I prepared to Apparate.

I set my face into a nonchalant expression and span on the spot, appearing moments later in the front room of my home. Draco was sitting on the sofa, fisting his hands into his hair in obvious anxiety. I cleared my throat, and he looked up. "I went to Diagon Alley," he began, "even though I don't know how I knew it even existed. I used the fireplace, even though I don't know how I knew I could do that." He looked away, his voice cracking, before his quicksilver eyes snapped back to mine. "The thing I can't understand is – ever since you arrived here just now, all I can think about is being unkind to you and calling you the strangest thing."

I sat down across from him, my heart rate speeding up as I steeled myself for what he would say next. "What do you keep thinking about calling me, Draco?" I asked softly.

His eyes clouded over with an emotion I couldn't recognise. "Mudblood," he almost spat.

My blood ran cold.


	5. Chapter 5 - I Am An Illusion

**A/N: I was going to wait to post this chapter, but I couldn't. I've been writing all weekend and have just completed chapter 7 of this story. This chapter is where things start to heat up - including plenty of Dramione interaction! **

**A massive thank you to Divess, who has reviewed every chapter of this fic so far - I really appreciate your feedback and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks also to Honoria Granger for the review and the excellent question. The answers are revealed in this chapter. **

**Title of this chapter comes from the song of the same name by Rob Thomas - I think the song really sums up Draco's state of mind at this point. If you haven't heard it, it is worth a listen. **

**On with the story... **

**serenarian1 x **

**Chapter Five – I Am An Illusion**

I blinked back tears as I stared at him. "Excuse me?" was the only thing I was able to get out.

Draco looked at me with something unreadable burning in his eyes. "I want to call you a mudblood," he repeated. "I don't know what it means but the look you gave me just now tells me all I need to know. You know what it means, don't you?"

I didn't know how to respond to that. My hands felt tied. I didn't know what I was allowed to say, what I should say.

He chuckled bitterly. "You do, don't you? You know more than you're letting on. Why wouldn't you tell me, Hermione?"

I raised my eyes to his, feeling the beginnings of anger stirring in my chest. "Yes, Draco – I do know what 'mudblood' means. It's a horrible racial slur, commonly thrown around by certain wizards who believe themselves to be above other witches and wizards."

He gulped. "But what is it meant to _mean_?"

I bit the inside of my cheek in frustration. "It is used by wizards or witches from pureblood families to insult those who are born to Muggle parents. A half-blood is someone who has one magical and one Muggle parent."

Draco tried to hide the surprise on his face, but failed. "Wait – so both of your parents weren't magical?"

"Neither of them were," I supplied. "I'm Muggle-born."

"Then I – I mean, if I know that word – I… oh damn it all, does this mean I'm a pureblood?" he mumbled.

I nodded. "I suppose it does."

He got up awkwardly, looking confused. "Hermione, I'm sorry for being so unpleasant. I-I need to think about this," he got out before turning and almost sprinting up the stairs. I watched him go, feeling suddenly angry that I was unable to help him. Marching over to the fireplace, I grabbed a handful of powder and called out my destination.

I arrived moments later at Harry's home. Ginny looked up in surprise as I stepped out of the hearth, brushing off my clothes. "I need to speak to Harry, straight away," I said calmly. Too calmly, as Ginny immediately got up and walked over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"Did he hurt you?" she asked, her piercing brown eyes searching my face.

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine Gin. I just need to speak to Harry urgently. Is he here?"

"Hermione, what can I do for you?" came Harry's voice behind me. "Is everything all right?"

"He deserves to know," I stated simply.

Harry stopped in his tracks as I turned to face him, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. "Straight to the point, as always," he mumbled. "What do you mean he deserves to know? Deserves to know what?"

"Who he is," I answered simply. "He deserves to have the answers to some of his questions, Harry – if not all of them. Surely he will only be of any use to us if he remembers. Harry – I know you're my boss and you don't want anything to be compromised – but he is remembering little scraps, and it's not fair."

Harry's eyes widened. "He's remembering things?"

I nodded miserably. "When we trained the other day he was duelling by rote. Nothing Dark, but he was still doing it in rotation and he didn't even think half the spells were real. He told me today that all he could think about was calling me a mudblood and he didn't understand why."

Ginny put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and they shared a meaningful look before he sighed and nodded. "Okay, fine – tell him the basics. **Only **the basics. He won't be able to handle all the details just yet. Drip feed him the information."

"How am I supposed to do that, Harry?"

He sighed again. "Start with the recent things. Tell him what a Death Eater was and that he was one. Word it however you think is best. I trust your judgement. Do not, however, mention that we were at school together. Not yet."

I was about to interrupt and ask why when I realised what Harry was saying. "We want him to trust us," I said. It wasn't a question, and he nodded his confirmation. "You're afraid that if we tell him about our school days he will fly off the handle."

Ginny caught my gaze. "You know it's likely, Hermione. He wasn't exactly stable at Hogwarts – he made your lives hell. To top it off, he started his descent into the Death Eaters there. You don't want him reliving those memories. Not yet."

I couldn't argue with them, and I nodded slowly, albeit reluctantly. "Thanks, guys." They smiled at me, and I stepped into their fireplace and Flooed home.

The house was silent, and I checked the downstairs rooms to see if Draco was around. There was no sign of him so I ascended the stairs as quietly as I could; not wanting to startle him. As I made my way down the corridor I saw him in his room, sitting stiffly on his bed. I rapped my knuckles gently against the door. "Draco," I called. "Are you all right?"

He closed his eyes for a long time before shaking his head. I walked in and sat down next to him on the bed, being careful to give him space. "I haven't been entirely honest with you," I began hesitantly, "and for that I'm really sorry. But I'll tell you the truth if you wish. The little I know, anyway."

He looked up into my face, surprise on his features, and motioned for me to continue. I twisted my fingers together nervously before continuing. "Draco – the Dark wizard I mentioned had his own followers – an army; if you like. They were equally dark and they carried out his bidding. Duties such as killing Muggles and Muggle-borns, destroying whole villages – they wanted to create fear and terror among those who were not on their side." I took a deep breath. "They followed this man to the ends of the earth, committing atrocities and murdering innocent people in his name by using very Dark magic. They were responsible for killing a lot of people I loved, and they tried to kill me and my friends on many occasions. Thankfully, they never succeeded."

Draco reached out and touched my knee gently. "That's where you got your experience then," he whispered. "You were involved in the war against these people and you almost died because of it. For what it's worth, I-I'm glad you survived, Hermione."

"There's more," I added, my throat beginning to constrict with tears. "The Dark wizard's name was Lord Voldemort. He had a particular follower who was his right-hand-man for a while. This follower – his name was Lucius. He never quite pleased his master as much as he wanted to, so he declared that his wife and son would also serve the Dark Lord. His son in particular was to follow in Lucius's footsteps."

"I have a question," interrupted Draco. "Did Voldemort's army have a name?"

"Yes," I choked out. "They were known as the Death Eaters."

Draco turned white and his mouth dropped open as he stared at me. "What?"

"They were called Death Eaters," I repeated, feeling my heart speed up as I took in his shocked expression.

"And this Lucius – who was he? He must have had a surname, nobody goes around by just their first name –"

I held up a hand, and he stopped mid-tirade. I willed myself to look into his eyes as I prepared myself to spit out the awful truth. "His name was Lucius Malfoy," I answered, my voice barely audible. "Draco – he was your father. You were the one who was to serve Voldemort under him… you became a Death Eater."

"NO!" he cried, his voice almost inhuman with pain and anguish. He sprang up, his eyes darting around the room as if to look for an escape before his shoulders slumped and he collapsed back onto the bed. Dropping his face into his hands, his sobs rang out in the emptiness of the room. I could only watch helplessly as tears dripped between his fingers and fell uninterrupted to the floor.

"Draco – I'm so sorry," was all I could think to say. "The Death Eaters are no more. The world is different now. You – you're not that person anymore."

He rounded on me. "How would you know?" he demanded angrily. "You didn't know me then! I'm nothing – this person I think is me – I am an illusion!"

I felt lost. I didn't know what to do – my obligations to Harry were crystal clear, and I knew I couldn't jeopardise that, but I had to comfort Draco somehow. I didn't know why but suddenly all I could think about was stopping his tears and seeing him smile again. In that instant I made my decision. I would bridge both and tell him a little more, but not the full story. "That's not true," I ventured. "We met on the battlefield several times."

"Oh great," he cried. "You mean I was one of the people that tried to kill you?"

"No," I said with conviction. "You actually saved me. You knew who I was and who I fought for – and yet you didn't identify me to Voldemort. You lied to your father and said you didn't recognise me. You saved my life."

He was silent for a long moment, twisting his fingers in the bedspread. "Was I there at the end? When your friend killed Voldemort?"

"You didn't fight on either side," I answered truthfully. "You stood aside and watched as the final duel was taking place. You could have backed up your master, but you didn't. Then – then you disappeared, and nobody saw you until you were introduced to me at the Ministry."

He dropped his head into his hands again, more tears finding their way through his trembling fingers. "So you don't know what happened to me between then and now? When did that happen – how long was I missing?"

"Three years," I said, my voice calm. "Draco – you are not a Death Eater anymore. That much is obvious. Whatever happened in those three years has changed you."

He turned to me, tears still running down his pale cheeks. His eyes were dull as he regarded me. "I can't remember any of this, Hermione," he reminded me, his tone desperate. "What if someday I remember and I go back to being that person? That Dark wizard who took lives?"

"You won't," I said, trying to sound confident. "We all make mistakes, and we wish we could forget the past and be somebody different – someone better. You've been given that chance, Draco. Seize it with both hands. Embrace your training and be the best damn Auror anyone could hope to be. Nobody can hold your past against you if you truly decide to embrace this opportunity you have sought out for yourself."

He rubbed his cheeks with the back of his hand. "You don't know that," he insisted. "People don't just forget."

Before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and touched his face, rubbing my thumb across his cheek. "I knew you then, and you are nothing like that man anymore."

He stared at me, and I matched his gaze. My breath hitched in my throat as I realised I didn't want to look away. I had meant every word that had tumbled out of my mouth, and suddenly the effect of my assertion scared the living daylights out of me.

"You have more poise, self-control, and kindness in you than any other witch I have ever known," he half-whispered. "I can only assume that I used to call you a – that awful word – but I can't conceive of how I could ever believe that about anyone, least of all you. Since we were introduced at the Ministry, I have found you absolutely beguiling, Hermione."

"Don't," I argued weakly, feeling tingles rush up my spine at his words. "I'm just me, Draco. I'm not special. If anything, I'm a massive annoyance to my department because I insist on everything being run like clockwork."

His eyes never left my face. I found myself studying him; the shape of his nose, his chin, how his mouth curled slightly at the corners. His gaze found mine and there I was again, falling into the depths of his eyes – those eyes that glistened like mercury in the half-light of the room. I saw an unshed tear resting on his lower lashes which only seemed to add to the effect. In spite of myself, I found myself wondering where he had been these last years and what those eyes had seen.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Please, just…" Before he could finish his sentence, he had reached for me. His eyes searched mine and I nodded almost imperceptibly before he lowered his head and closed the distance between us. His lips brushed mine gently before he pulled me closer, his mouth claiming mine. I closed my eyes, wanting to feel nothing but the rush of sensation that was threatening to overpower my mind as his kiss became more urgent. I opened myself to him, my nerves on fire as he gently explored my mouth with his tongue. He moaned softly as I slid my arms around his waist; his hands in my hair. It seemed like only seconds before he broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard. "I've wanted to do that since you first brought me here," he admitted.

I sat in a daze, touching my lips gently and feeling my heart pound in my chest. "Me too," I found myself responding. Guilt began to settle over me like a dark cloud as I realised what I had just said; what had just happened. "Draco, I –"

"It's all right," he reassured. "I know you said you didn't know what you wanted. I know you've just got out of a relationship and you're unsure. I just wanted to make sure you didn't regret the kiss – because I don't."

I thought about it. Did I regret the kiss? The memories filled my head – how he had felt holding me, how he had tasted. "No, I don't regret it at all," I finally replied. "But you're right – I don't know how to think. My boyfriend was killed, and I just –"

"I'm sorry," came his voice. "But I couldn't go another minute without letting you know that I – well, that I'm interested. I care about you. I'm not expecting anything – I just needed you to know that."

"Aren't you angry with me?" I asked suddenly. At his puzzled look, I rolled my eyes. "For not telling you what I knew sooner," I clarified.

"Oh, that. I was at first," he admitted. "But then I thought about it and I realised you probably had your reasons. I'm grateful you told me anything – you didn't have to. You could have pretended you knew nothing and carried on as if nothing had happened. But you didn't." He smiled then, a real smile. "It's why I've always thought of you as more than just my trainer – hopefully, a friend at least."

"Of course," I agreed. He turned to walk out of the room, but there was something else I needed him to know. "Oh, Draco?"

He turned back to face me. "Yeah?"

I grinned. "That kiss was really good." Winking at him, I stood and walked past him, hearing his laughter as I left the room and made my way to the staircase.


	6. Chapter 6 - Undertow

**A/N: I've been waiting to post this chapter as I've taken a little break from writing for the past week - mainly for my sanity as I'm working on this and another (non-fanfic) piece as well. Otherwise my various different characters keep vying for attention in my head and I can't concentrate, haha! The Draco in my head can be quite demanding so I've had to tie him up and lock him in a cupboard for now...**

**Rest assured though - this story will be continuing. I haven't given up on it and I have chapter 7 already written - I'm just editing it. Hopefully I will make a start on chapter 8 soon. I know where this story is going to go; I have the ending planned out in my head and I know how this will end. I just need to get there. :) **

**Enjoy the chapter - and THANK YOU to those who have reviewed so far, I really appreciate your feedback. **

**serenarian1 x **

**Chapter 6 – Undertow**

I watched from behind the screen as Draco duelled with the training dummy; an old mannequin enchanted to cast unpredictable spells. I chuckled to myself as I entertained the concept; in many ways it was the Wizarding version of a shooting range. Spells of every imaginable colour flashed off the one-way glass as I continued to watch, wincing now and again as a spell flashed a little too close to him. I heard the door behind me opening and closing but didn't turn around.

"Hermione? Are you busy?" It was Harry's voice. I span around with a wide smile, welcoming him. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly before putting them back on and returning the smile. "I wanted to ask you about something."

"No, I'm not especially busy. Just watching the duelling practice," I replied, gesturing towards the glass. "What's on your mind?"

Harry walked closer and looked through the glass. "It seems I caught you at just the right time. I've been wondering about what you told me about Malfoy and his duelling." He leaned closer. "It's odd that he would be casting by rote and not throwing Dark spells."

I nodded, joining him near the glass. "I was just surprised. I expected it to be a result of his Death Eater training but the lack of Dark magic would suggest that's not the case. Could it be because of duelling club?"

Harry snorted. "Not likely. We only had duelling club that one year and we didn't do much, remember?" His green eyes followed Draco's movements intently. "He's doing more defensive than offensive magic, by the look of it," he commented, almost to himself. "Have you tried to break his rotation?"

I shook my head. "No, there's no point at the moment. I want to see what I have to work with before I try to modify his battle stance and increase his range."

"How's he doing otherwise? I only went along with him being accepted onto training because Shacklebolt was very persuasive. I know they relaxed the entry requirements after the war, but still… I was surprised that Malfoy's criminal record was so easily ignored."

"He doesn't really have a criminal record though does he? I mean – he was never tried. He disappeared before that could happen. Otherwise he would."

Harry nodded. "That's true. He's quite good, better than I thought. Very fluid."

I felt weirdly proud of Draco as we watched him. "He does it almost unconsciously," I remarked. "The first time we duelled he didn't know if half the spells he was using were even real."

Harry merely nodded in response. "That bothers me," he replied. "Malfoy is a pureblood wizard – magic is innate to him. He should never forget spells, even if he suffered head injuries such as the ones he incurred."

My eyes flicked back to him. "What exactly were his injuries? You never said, and he looked fine when he was introduced to me."

Harry grimaced. "They were bad, Hermione. When he was given over to us from Wales his head was in a bad way. He'd been beaten with some kind of blunt object and his scalp was torn. He needed serious medical attention – we sent him straight to St Mungos and they worked on him overnight."

I looked away from Harry and back through the glass; back to Draco who was now moving quickly, throwing a variety of spells while strafing around the dummy. He looked calm and controlled, and I felt my chest tighten at the idea of him being hurt so badly. I bit my lip to stop myself from showing how I felt, aware that Harry was watching me intently.

"So tell me Hermione – when did you start to care about him?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing.

_Oh holy mother of Merlin._ "What makes you think I do?" My voice shook a little as I answered him and he laughed. I turned to face him. "All right, Harry – I don't know, okay? I just – it's hard to switch off my empathy, even to someone like him."

"That's fine, Hermione," he chuckled. "I never said you couldn't care about him. He probably needs a friend right now." He leaned away from the glass and smiled at me. "Yes, he was a prick in school but we haven't seen him since the war."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You're being awfully forgiving," I reprimanded, "considering he's the prime suspect in Ron's murder. And you're concerned with the idea that he might _need a friend?_" My voice rose in anguish as I grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me. "Harry – you are my best friend, but since you have given me this assignment I have spent all my days feeling atrociously guilty about the fact that I am being forced to live with – and get along with – the man whom I think killed my fiancé!"

He held his hands up, his calm green eyes focusing on mine. "Calm down, Hermione," he said flatly. "Do you think I like this? Do you really think I wanted to do this?" Anger flashed across his features as I stared at him. "This situation is someone's idea of a really sick joke, but here we are and we have to deal with it!" He stopped abruptly before he raised his voice any further. "Besides, you seemed to be getting on okay with him. I assumed you were making the best of this – what's got you so rattled all of a sudden?"

Damn Harry and his perceptive nature. He had me cornered, and I found myself squirming under his unflinching gaze. "I'm attracted to him," I mumbled, looking away. I watched him as his eyebrows shot up. I flushed scarlet, feeling suddenly angry and embarrassed all at the same time. "There you go – there's the horribly ironic twist in the latest messed up instalment of Hermione Granger's life," I added bitterly.

He looked suddenly sympathetic. "Your life isn't messed up, Hermione. Why would you say that?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I burst into tears. "I had it all planned out, Harry!" I sobbed. "I was supposed to become a key member of the Auror Office, marry Ron and have his children eventually! I wanted to open a bookshop and spend half my time looking after the kids and the other half surrounded by books and people who love to read as much as I do." I brushed my tears away angrily. "That plan has now gone to shit, hasn't it? Instead I'm training new Auror recruits and spending my days bunking up with the man I should hate because I believe he killed Ron!"

In two strides he was beside me and throwing his arms around me in a comforting hug. "I know I've said this before, but you really need to let go of this obsession that Malfoy was Ron's murderer," he said soothingly. "The fact is that there's no evidence at the moment – if there were, I'd be taking him to the Wizengamot myself. You know that, 'Mione."

I nodded into his shoulder through my tears. "You know I hate that nickname," I grumbled, and he laughed. "I just always assumed it was him, Harry."

"I know," he soothed, rubbing my back. "I know." He released me then, and I rubbed my eyes before smiling at him in silent thanks. "In the meantime, keep an eye on him. His training seems to be going well. Let me know if he remembers anything more or his duelling patterns change. Obviously, if anything Dark shows up then let me know at once."

I nodded, back in Auror mode. "Of course, boss." Harry grinned at me before turning on his heel and leaving the observation chamber. I made my way back to the glass and pressed the little button that would carry my voice into the duelling hall. "Okay Draco, you can take ten minutes," I called, simultaneously deactivating the spell that animated the training dummy. Slipping through the door to my right, I walked into the hall.

Draco was sitting on the floor, panting. His training uniform was damp, and droplets of sweat sparkled on his forehead. His hair was dark with moisture. "I didn't… realise… training… would be so… intense," he forced out through sharp intakes of breath. I smiled and handed him a bottle of chilled water, which he accepted before almost wrenching off the top and drinking deeply from it.

"Auror training is intense," I said conversationally. "Of course, after the war anyone involved in the final battle was allowed to skip the first year of training. Otherwise I would still be training myself. I completed my training a year ago and rose through the ranks reasonably quickly."

"I respect you for that, having just duelled constantly for the best part of an hour," he responded, his voice and breathing returning to normal. "Although I'm guessing your initial training consisted of trading duels with Death Eaters who were hell-bent on killing you?" I nodded, and he took another drink. "In that case, I should stop complaining and get on with it. At least the training dummy isn't flinging Unforgivables at me."

"That can be arranged, you know," I reminded him. "As a matter of fact, in the last stage of your training, it will be flinging them at you."

He nodded. "I'd expect nothing less."

Chuckling, I nodded to him and made my way back into the observation chamber as he stood and stretched his muscles. "Initiating phase two of the training, Mr Malfoy!" I called through the speaker system. "Take your stance, and let's begin!"

"Wait," he called suddenly, holding up his hand. "Hermione – could you come back in here a moment?"

I did as he asked, slipping through the still-open door and walking to his side. "Yes?"

He fixed his gaze on me and I felt myself tremble. "I – I wanted to admit something to you before I continue with this," he stuttered. "The only way I can get through these practice duels is to imagine a scenario in my head." He looked at me half nervously and I motioned for him to continue, trying to figure out where he was going with this. He cleared his throat, his gaze moving around the room. "The only way I can fight with any conviction is to pretend that the dummy –" at this point he gestured to the mannequin "- is a Death Eater seeking your blood."

My mouth dropped open. "You're imagining that you are protecting me?" I asked in disbelief.

He nodded. "It's the only thing I can do. I have nobody, Hermione, or if I do I don't remember them. I only have you. At this point you're the only thing I care about." His gaze finally met mine, and his eyes were almost liquid as they searched my face. "I hope you don't mind."

I shook my head wordlessly, unsure what to say. Eventually I found my voice. "I don't mind at all," I gasped. He began to lower his head to mine but I reached up and pressed my finger against his lips. "Not here," I reprimanded softly. "We're at work."

He straightened up. "Of course," he said with a smile. He gestured to the dummy with his wand. "Turn this big scary Death Eater back on and I can pick up where I left off."

I returned the smile before making my way back into the observation room and flicking my wand to reinstate the spell. Immediately he sprang into action, and I rested my chin on my hand as I watched, unable to fight my fascination that he was using me as a reason to fight. Despite it going against every fibre of my logical nature; I couldn't help but think that something else was happening here, something bigger. It was like his reappearance had set something in motion. I found myself, somewhat bleakly, comparing it to a tidal wave. I kept to myself the fact that I was quickly becoming caught in the undertow.


	7. Chapter 7 - Dazed and Confused

**A/N: It's taken me a while, but I finally have this chapter up. I spent a bit of time editing it, although I wrote it a while ago. Life has now been getting in the way which has meant that I'm no longer a few chapters ahead; so this is the last chapter that I wrote. I'll be writing and posting chapters as they're complete from this point until I'm ahead again. **

**Thank you for the reviews - I really appreciate all feedback! I'm also really glad that people have responded well to my oneshots - for some reason I've been inspired to do oneshots recently. **

**serenarian1 x **

**Chapter 7 – Dazed and Confused**

Draco dropped his wand on the table, wincing as he felt his overstretched muscles protest at the sudden movement. Hermione had been training him hard. The last five days had consisted of intense duelling practice sessions interspersed with Poisons classroom training, and both his mind and body were exhausted. He gingerly lowered himself onto the sofa, letting out a sharp breath as his gluteal muscles burned in resistance. _Hermione must have thighs of steel,_ he thought, and then shook his head in a vain attempt to banish the blush that was quickly rising up his throat at the image that the thought provoked.

As if on cue, she stepped into the archway; leaning against the pillar. "You look a little worse for wear," she commented. "It's been a difficult week. You've done well. I'm proud of you."

Draco nodded. "Thanks, Hermione." He leaned back in his seat slowly, the rush of pain echoing through his body. She noticed and immediately made her way over to him, sitting in the adjacent chair. He looked up at her and attempted a smile which came out resembling a grimace. "This really hurts," he admitted through clenched teeth. "How can I hurt so much without having been directly injured?"

She pursed her lips, trying to hide a smile. "That's muscle strain," she answered simply. "It will pass as you continue to use the muscles." She brushed off her lap and stood, regarding him with an amused look. "I'll go and make you some tea," she stated before disappearing into the kitchen.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the softness of the sofa behind his head as he listened to her movements in the kitchen. An idea popped into his head and he pondered it for a second. "Hermione?" he called. "How will the other Aurors react to me when they find out that I used to be a Death Eater?"

He heard her entering the room and opened his eyes just in time to see her carefully holding out a steaming mug to him. He accepted it and took a tentative sip, gauging the temperature. She looked perturbed. "Well," she began, twisting her fingers together. "The other new recruits have already seen you. The other experienced Aurors – well, we're going to have to work up to that."

He took another cautious sip of the hot tea, feeling it warming his chest. "They'll hate me, won't they?" he said dully. "They'll want to kill me on sight. I represent everything an Auror fights against… and here I am joining them."

Hermione shook her head. "Perhaps at first, but – Draco, the head of the Auror Office wants you there. The Minister of Magic wants you there. You have nothing to worry about." Her eyes sparkled. "Besides, they will be briefed before you are formally inducted."

Draco allowed his eyes to find her face; watching her as she continued speaking about the Auror briefings. Her large brown eyes were full of passion as she relayed the process, her face lighting up as she explained the procedure of being inducted into the Auror Office. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and caught her wrist. "You're beautiful," he murmured. "You look so beautiful when you're talking about what you love to do."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes questioning, but he was too far gone to care at that moment. His hand reached up to her face unconsciously, and he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and allowed him to gently caress her face; making no effort to move away. He heard her as she held her breath, and before he could change his mind he leaned forward and covered her mouth with his. Her lips moved against his softly; so sweetly, and Draco felt his resolve crumble as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He met her halfway; their tongues tangling as he lifted her onto his lap. Her closeness sent shivers up his spine as he continued to kiss her deeply, his hands in her hair.

Too soon she broke the kiss and he immediately felt bereft at her withdrawal. She took his face in her hands, staring down at him with confusion in her eyes. "This is wrong," she whispered. "This is so wrong, Draco."

"I know," was all he could manage to say. His lips were still on fire from their kiss and he found himself wishing desperately that she hadn't said that. She was still sitting on his lap, his arms looped around her shoulders. Her gaze was lowered, and Draco tortured himself with ideas of what she might be thinking.

Abruptly, she lifted her gaze back to his and this time Draco was under no illusions. The confusion in her eyes had been replaced by something undeniable – desire. "This is so wrong, Draco," she repeated, "but I don't care." Before he could respond she was kissing him again, hard. He fell into the contact willingly and helplessly; losing himself in her scent and her taste and the way she felt against him, her hands uncontrollably searching every inch of him from the waist up. He knew what she was about to do and reluctantly broke their kiss, sliding his hands to her shoulders.

"Wait, Hermione," he cautioned, pulling back slightly so that he could look into her face. "This is too fast – much too fast."

Her response was to back away completely, sliding off his lap and leaning her head back on the sofa. "You're right," she admitted. "I – I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't," he supplied. "You weren't thinking – you were feeling. Pure instinct took over. I wasn't thinking either."

She laughed hollowly. "Now what?"

The sudden rumble of Draco's stomach broke the uncomfortable silence that followed, and he chuckled. "I suppose dinner wouldn't be a bad idea," he suggested. "I'd offer to help but I've no idea how to cook."

She looked at him tiredly. "That's okay. You should rest your muscles, anyway. I'll run you a hot bath. You can soak while I cook." She made to get up but he caught her arm, turning her to face him. "What?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said softly. "I shouldn't have done that. I should have just shut up and let you talk."

She shook her head sadly. "Don't apologise, Draco. Just – just don't spoil it, okay?" He nodded dumbly as she walked away, reproaching himself severely in his mind. The last ten minutes had been a blur. However certain things had been revealed now; things that couldn't be hidden away or unsaid. He grimaced to himself as he remembered his words – he hadn't been lying; nor had he meant to say those things out loud. Privately he had thought she was stunning from the day he had first met her at the Ministry but had swallowed his attraction. His reasons for doing so at the beginning were simple – he had not known anything about her or himself. They might have been related, for example, and what he had assumed was attraction might have simply been familial recognition. She might have been married or in a relationship with another. These reasons (and several others) had led Draco to push his interest in her to the back of his mind.

But now? Now it was out in the open – he had brushed off their first kiss as a mere reaction to the revelations she had provided. But their second kiss was much harder to pass off as a simple overreaction to an emotional situation. She had simply been talking, and he had given in to his – his _fascination _with her. He had assumed she would berate him or push him away; freeze him out. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined that she would respond.

But she had. She had responded with a fire that he had never expected and he was still feeling the heat dancing along his skin. He turned that idea over and over in his mind. Her reaction had proved to him something that was now impossible to retract – the feeling was mutual. He clenched his teeth, resisting the thrill that coursed through him at the realisation. "I can't," he muttered to himself. "I can't pursue this – I can't pursue her. She's my bloody supervisor, for Merlin's sake."

Hearing footsteps, he turned his attention to the archway as she approached. "Your bath is ready," she informed him. "I hope it's not too hot. There's some bath potions on the side that you can add to the water – they'll help with the strain."

He nodded, shifting forward slowly. "Thank you." He stood hesitantly, avoiding her gaze. Running a hand through his hair awkwardly, he began to move towards the archway and she backed away to allow him space.

"Draco?" she asked, her voice suddenly hushed. "Is cottage pie all right? For dinner, I mean?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. Oh, and Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I didn't regret that kiss, either," he divulged, before grinning slightly and walking down the corridor towards the bathroom. The room was reasonably spacious and was dominated by a large tub; from which clouds of steam were rising. Draco reached across the tub to the shelf above and retrieved a blue glass bottle labelled 'Relaxo Meditari Potion', which he poured into the water. Closing the door, he quickly slipped off his clothes and lowered himself into the tub, emitting a hiss of pleasure as the potion-infused water began to work on his muscles.

He heard a tap on the door. "Just so you know," came Hermione's voice, "neither did I."

He allowed himself a genuine smile then, laughing gently. He heard her chuckle before her footsteps faded away. Raising his arms, he slipped his hands behind his head and stretched out in the hot water, still smiling at her admission. The Aurors and their reaction to his presence could wait – for now, he was content.


End file.
